


First, and Last

by eveningsoother (WhichWolfWins)



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: First Time, M/M, Sherlock's First Time, Virgin Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 04:33:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5361518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhichWolfWins/pseuds/eveningsoother
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Sherlock's first time, and it's theirs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First, and Last

**Author's Note:**

> This has been buried in my many, many drafts for years. It's about time I finished it!

John was nervous. He had just readjusted his tie for the fifth time in five minutes and he constantly had to dab sweat off of his forehead. His leg was bouncing so much under the table that he’d accidentally banged against it, causing his wine to splash a little over the rim of his glass, staining the cream cloth red.

It didn’t help that Sherlock’s face was as smooth as glass. He was as calm as still waters, raising his drink to his lips and taking a steady sip as he watched John. He wasn’t missing a single thing. Though he didn’t say anything, John thought he was probably amused - dinner and a show. 

John felt awful, because wasn’t he the one that was supposed to be good at this? Wasn’t he the one who should be calm and relaxed? Finally, after mismatched schedules, too-long cases, and dark moods, they were having a night to themselves, and John planned to make it special. He wanted to finally take Sherlock to bed tonight, and he was doing his best to make it memorable - a good start before Sherlock’s first time. 

Unfortunately, it didn’t appear to be working out so well. They had barely spoken since they’d arrived, and though Sherlock seemed not to mind it one bit - it was how these things normally went with them - the lack of conversation was making John feel even more nervous without anything to occupy himself with but his thoughts. 

For once, Sherlock was eating, so at least one thing was working out. 

Deciding to turn his attention to his food, John spun spaghetti noodles around his fork and brought it to his mouth. As he did, a blob of tomato sauce dripped off onto his tie and he groaned, putting his fork down. “Bloody hell!” he grumbled, dipping the napkin into his glass of water and swiping at the stain. It only seemed to make it worse, streaking red across the middle of his light blue tie. 

John finally gave up on trying to eat and look over at Sherlock who had stopped eating and now sat with his fingers laced in front of his lips, watching him closely. “Are you finished?” 

Sherlock cleared his throat and put his hands down. “Yes.” 

Without another word, he rose effortlessly and buttoned his jacket while John struggled to get his chair to push back. Realizing it just was not going to happen, he finally gave up and slid out of the side, finding the chair had gotten wedged on the carpet. 

Peeved, he took a calming breath and buttoned his jacket, avoiding Sherlock’s obvious gaze as he fiddled about with the wrinkles. 

Finally heading out the door, John held it open for Sherlock and, after swiping his sweating palm on his trousers, held out his hand. He and Sherlock weren’t really the type to flaunt their affections about, but John needed something to keep him stabilized - he was growing more heated every second. Sherlock gave pause before he took hold. 

They walked hand-in-hand the rest of the way home, John clasping onto Sherlock like he just might float away if he were to let go. Once they reached 221, John held the door open for Sherlock and followed closed behind him up the stairs. He stopped the taller man outside of the door to their flat with a hand on his sleeve. 

“Can you wait here until I call for you?” 

Sherlock opened his mouth, but whatever he saw in John’s expression had him close it. Instead, he gave a confirming nod. John let himself into their flat and, upon closing the door behind him, he paused to breathe in before darting around the sitting room to prepare. 

“You can come in now!” John called, setting the bottle of champagne down on the coffee table with a final thump. 

The door clicked open and Sherlock entered. 

John swallowed thickly as he waited for him to react. 

Peering around the room, the candle flames reflecting in his wide, clear eyes, Sherlock’s lips parted open, giving away his surprise. Without a word, he turned and quietly shed his coat, then unbuttoned his dinner jacket and draped it across the back of John’s chair. 

Sherlock’s silence was driving John up the wall. He rested his tongue on his bottom lip as he waited, too nervous to speak first. He felt like he was going to be sick. 

“Is it my birthday?” he asked, finally meeting John’s eyes. 

John opened his mouth, then shook his head instead. “It’s May.” 

“Your birthday?” 

“No,” John said firmly. 

“Then…” Sherlock’s eyes danced over the candles and the flower petals leading away into his bedroom. 

“Yes.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Positive.” 

“But what if I don’t…” 

John stepped forward and took hold of Sherlock’s hands. “That’s alright. But we’ll never know unless you try.” 

Sherlock hesitated, finally feeling what John had been feeling all night. Seeing him in this state seemed to leech all the nerves from John’s body, replacing it with a need to take care of Sherlock’s needs. 

He realized Sherlock wasn’t responding and gave his hands a gentle squeeze. “Alright?” 

Sherlock nodded. 

“I love you,” John reassured him. “No matter.” 

Sherlock looked into his eyes, finally coming back to himself with those words. “I love you, too, John.” 

John smiled and leaned up on his toes, reaching for a kiss. Sherlock met him half way and bent down to touch his lips to John’s. Instead of pulling away, John pressed into the kiss, running his hands up Sherlock’s arms to his back and finally resting them under the crook of his jaw, tucking his fingers into the warmth of Sherlock’s hair. 

He started to step backward, guiding them toward their room. It took Sherlock an awkwardly bumpy kiss to catch on, but he advanced forward, seeking John’s lips again, not willing to be left behind. 

John grinned into the kiss and got lost in it, losing track of where they were until they passed under the shadow of the doorway and found themselves standing in their room, surrounded by red rose petals scattered around their feet. 

Sherlock pulled away and John smiled at the excitement he saw in Sherlock’s eyes as they flickered with candlelight. 

Pulling him back into the kiss, John began to free Sherlock’s shirt buttons from their prison.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please comment and let me know what you thought!
> 
> If you'd like, you can come say hi or follow me on tumblr [here](http://eveningsoother.tumblr.com).


End file.
